


Bloom

by Stasi221btardis



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Another crying fic, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 19:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11424960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stasi221btardis/pseuds/Stasi221btardis
Summary: Patrick had a cold, and then he had something worse.





	Bloom

Colds were the worst for Patrick. The illness wasn’t dangerous enough to go to the doctor, and it didn’t numb out his senses like the flu or strep throat did. No, he had to deal with the stuffy nose and sore throat all by himself. This meant that he drank lots of tea as well. This particular day, he was drinking his tea when he noticed a flower petal in the tea. It was a dark burgundy color, and was quite large. This shook Patrick to the core. He knew what Hanahaki disease was, as he had relatives who had succumbed to it. It happened when a person was in the throes of unrequited love and had no way out of it. A flower, or in rare cases several flowers, would grow in the person’s lungs and they would start to cough up flowers until the plant suffocated them from the inside.This depressed Patrick more than it scared him, as he now knew the one he loved would never love him back. Hanahaki disease was mostly fatal, because the person who contracted it was unlikely to ever tell the person they loved. A lot of the time, they didn’t even see the person that they loved for a long time, or didn’t know who they loved, so they died of non contact. This was not Patrick’s case though, he knew exactly who he loved and knew he couldn’t get rid of him. He loved Pete Wentz.

 

Patrick knew he loved Pete around the time Warped Tour ended in 2005. Travelling with MCR and other bands made it so lots of girls and boys gave Pete a lot of attention. Sexual attention to be precise. At first, Patrick thought he was jealous that Pete was getting so many people attracted to him. After all he had a massive sense of low self esteem and totally wasn’t gay. Not at all. After about the 3rd stop Patrick started to question himself. Was he jealous of Pete or was he jealous of the people with Pete? He started noticing things that Pete did that was rather cute, and it terrified him. It was stuff like how he drank his coffee or how he laughed at whatever Joe said. Patrick retreated into himself pretty far after that, and decided that maybe he wasn’t as straight as he thought. He couldn’t tell anybody, especially not Pete, so he kept it hidden for about 2 years. 2 years of pretending to not think everything Pete did was irresistible and charming, 2 years of peace until the whole thing tried to out itself with the flower petals. Really big flower petals too. This was going to be a disaster.

 

Patrick kept the whole flower coughing business under control until Joe’s birthday. The band went to a club as a group, and were looking to have a great night out for Joe. That was until Patrick had a coughing fit and a pile of a mix between petals and full flowers, roses, fell onto the table. Pictures flashed from the paparazzi and Pete dragged his hacking friend out of the club. They were flanked by a group of photographers asking questions.

“Patrick, how long have you been afflicted?”

“Are you sure you are healthy enough to be in public?” Pete scowled at the paparazzo and shoved through the group to his car.

“Pete, what about *cough* my car?” Patrick asked, huffing in his seat. He was wheezing loudly as Pete started the car and backed out of his space. Pete was silent for a few moments, but finally said, 

“We’ll get it in the morning.” He sounded strained, like he was trying not to cry. Patrick questioned this, asking what was wrong. Pete looked forlornly at his friend, then back at the road.

“Who is she?” He asked quietly, almost too quietly for Patrick to hear.

“It’s no one Pete.” Patrick said as he brushed off the flower petals from his ever present hoodie. Pete barked out a laugh.

“Well obviously not!” He frowned. “Patrick you know how serious this is right? You could die.”

“Or get surgery.” Patrick chimed in. Pete shook his head.

“And risk having all feeling of that love disappear? Patrick I know you too well, you would never do that.” Pete was right, Patrick held onto his love for people too closely, even if he didn’t show it. Patrick held his head low.

“Well what am I going to do about it? He’ll never go for someone like me, Pete.” He clapped a hand over his mouth and looked at Pete, who kept his eyes steady on the road, like he wasn’t surprised.

“Yes he would, Patrick. I know it.” Patrick frowned. He had never told Pete that he was bi, or really anybody for that matter. Pete smirked at Patrick’s expression. “You think I didn’t notice you checking out guys or getting all flustered when that guy in the bar touched your ass?” Patrick slumped in the chair.

“Ok, yeah it’s a guy, doesn’t change the fact that he won’t go for a person like me.”

“I can’t prove or disprove that without knowing the person.” Pete said, prompting Patrick to spill the beans. Patrick shook his head.

“No, I know him, he likes a certain type of person, and that’s the opposite of this.” Patrick gestured at himself. He knew all too well that Pete probably preferred skinny, dark haired people like Mikey or anybody he saw walk onto their bus during the tour. There was no room for Patrick in Pete’s love life, it was as simple as that. Pete looked Patrick up and down and then back at the road. 

“Fine, but you are going to tell me one of these days, ok?” Patrick rolled his eyes.

“Ok.”

 

The rest of the ride was driven in silence, save for the intermittent coughing coming from Patrick. Pete gave Patrick a bag that he would cough up the flowers into, and by the time they got to the house, Patrick’s bag was half full of multicolored petals. Pete helped Patrick out of the car and brought him into the house to rest up. He shuffled through his clothes to find something Patrick would be willing to wear to bed. He settled on a t-shirt and sweats and brought them to Patrick. Patrick took the gratefully and went into the bathroom to change.

The t- shirt was too small. Way too small. It barely covered the bottom of Patrick’s stomach and it made Patrick’s heart sink. If he so much as lifted an arm his pale belly would show through and probably turn Pete off for the rest of his life. Patrick coughed again and tugged at the hem of his shirt. Pete would laugh in his face if he told him he loved him. Patrick sniffled a bit, blinking away tears. He was gonna suffocate on flowers. Death by something he was allergic to. Patrick left the bathroom with a solemn air about him that Pete latched onto quickly. He brought the other man into a bone crushing hug and kissed his friend’s head.

“Let’s get you to bed, Patrick.”

XXXX

Twitter was the worst thing on earth according to Patrick. It had become the bane of his existence after the paparazzi spilled the story on his disease. Headlines about the singer’s illness made people from around the world curious to who Patrick was. He got a lot of sympathy from fans, most saying that they loved him and were sad that he had hanahaki disease, but he also got a lot of rude comments as well.

“Of course his love won’t return the affection, have you seen his face?”

“Too fat for a girlfriend, He’s gonna die alone.”

“With that voice he should be suffocated.” Were just some of the hate that spewed his way. Patrick became a recluse for a few months, and only interacted with the other band members when they met up for shows. During one show, Patrick was so strapped for air that he nearly passed out during their set. After the show, Pete dragged Patrick to the ER and sat with him while the doctors gave him the official diagnosis of Hanahaki disease. Pete was on the verge of tears while Patrick just sat, depressed. The doctor explained that there was nothing for the to do, and advised Patrick to find the one that was causing the disease and confess his love. 

“That’s the only way that we will have a shot at curing this.” She frowned at him and left to fetch him the paperwork that was standard for such a disease. Pete held Patrick’s hand and started to beg him.  
“Patrick, please tell me who he is, I’ll find him and tell him what’s up for you.” Patrick shook his head.

“You would hate me if i told you.”

“Never, Patrick. Is it Travie? You know he adores you, he would do anything for you.”

“It’s not Travie, Pete. Or Mikey while we’re at it.” Pete started to cry.

“Patrick I...I don’t care who it is, I will find them and make them fall in love with you if that’s the case. I don’t care if I hate the person because it’s who you love. I care too much for you to see you wither away like this.” He wiped his eyes. “You’re like a brother to me, Patrick.”

The doctor came back and gave them the paperwork, looking very uncomfortable with the crying man in the room.

“Well, here’s your paperwork, it has the kind of flower and its meaning, Mr. Stump.” Patrick thanked her and took the paper. The flowers that a person coughed up were supposed to dictate what kind of love the person had. Their feelings. The paper had a list of three, a very uncommon number for the affliction.

Burgundy rose- beauty  
Veriegated tulip-beautiful eyes  
Freesia- innocence  
“This doesn’t make any sense.” Patrick said. “Nothing about my love has to do with what they look like.” He looked at Pete, who read the paper.

“What if they love you back, like this is how they feel and you are just coughing it up because you’re so full of their affections.” Patrick snorted.

“Not possible. I’m not beautiful, my eyes are ordinary. The only thing that makes sense is the Freesia.” Pete shook his head.

“There are a lot of people that think you are beautiful, Patrick.” He said quietly.

“I have a very realistic view of what I look like, Pete.” He snapped. Pete just looked at him, blank face. “What?” Patrick asked.

“You really are blind, Patrick. You honestly think nobody can love you.” Patrick nodded.

“I-I….” He started coughing, this time much more than earlier. Petals gathered in his hands and Pete gasped. There was blood.

“Nurse!” Pete yelled and ran out of the room, trying to get somebody to help. Patrick coughed more and spilled the bloody flowers, full flowers, out of his hands. He heaved onto the floor. Then he passed out. 

XXXX

 

Patrick woke up to the smell of cleaning solution and the sound of his own heart beating. He could feel someone gripping his hand and squeezing. He looked over and saw Pete, in the same clothes as earlier but looking disheveled. Light squeezed through the windows and he noticed balloons decorating the table area. No flowers. He coughed and tried to sit up, but a hand pushed his chest back into the pillow.

“Patrick, just rest. Please.” Pete sounded like he was pleading. “I need you to tell me who it is.” Patrick sighed.

“Fine, but Pete I want to tell you that I know I would never have a chance with this person. I’m ugly and chubby and unagreeable and I know that. I know I’m…..unloveable.” He started to tear up, and Pete gracefully wiped away the tear.

“Ok, who is it?”

“It’s you, Pete. It’s always been you.” He hiccupped and started sobbing. “Don’t hate me, please. I can’t control that I-

Pete silenced Patrick with a kiss. Patrick’s heart stopped for a second or two before a fluttering sensation gathered in the bottom of his belly. He let go of Patrick and connected their foreheads.

“I would never hate you Patrick, because I love you too. I’m the one that thinks you are beautiful and that your eyes light up the universe.” He placed a hand gingerly on Patrick’s stomach. “I’m the one that doesn’t care whether you are skinny or chubby or anywhere in between. I’m the one that loves you for you.”

And they kissed.

**Author's Note:**

> So there's that. feel free to follow me on tumblr   
> stasi-jatherine 
> 
> this is not beta'd, like all my stories so if it sucks that's why.
> 
> i'm always open for suggestions!


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